Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Life after Death
by Secret Slayer
Summary: AU after Season 5. After Buffy sacrifices herself to save Dawn, she expects to receive her reward; Death. However, when she wakes up 100 years in the future, sent on a mission to save the world, she turns to her only surviving ally: Spike. Plagued by memories she's yet to experience, can Spike convince her to accept them, or will she vow to change their lives forever? Buffy/Spike
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **Hi everyone. This story has been playing on my mind for a while now and I really wanted to try and write it. I hope you like and would love feedback.

**Summary:** After Buffy sacrifices herself to save Dawn, she expects to receive her reward; Death. However, when she wakes up 100 years in the future, she realises her slayer duties are far from over and there's only one man still alive to help her find her way home.

**Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Life after Death**

**By Secret Slayer**

**Chapter One**

**Unwelcome**

Someone, or _something,_ is touching her face.

_There's something very wrong here. _

Bolting upright, Buffy instantly panics when she finds herself in an unrecognisable room. It's almost too dark to see and the smell is enough to make her gag. The small space is fairly empty, with a decrepit dining table sitting wonkily in the far corner with two chairs that have never matched. There's a bare bulb swinging precariously in the centre of the low ceiling. She glances down at herself and pulls back the brown, threadbare blanket that's been placed over her legs. Cautiously, she stands, cursing when she bumps her head on the inhumanly low roof.

"Oh no, no, no, no!" shrieks a woman.

Buffy's eyes widen at the tiny creature that scurries towards her. Its little gnarled hands push hard at the tops of Buffy's thighs, the highest point it can reach, knocking her back down onto the bed.

"Hey! Back off!" Buffy snaps.

The miniature demon tries to the wrap the blanket around Buffy's legs again, despite the slayer swatting its hands away like an annoying fly. The demon woman starts to mumble something and suddenly Buffy finds she is unable to move. Her entire body has frozen stiff in mid swatting position.

"What the –"

A wrinkly finger presses against the slayer's lips to silence her. Buffy's nose, still able to move, scrunches in disgust at the scabby, red finger so close to her face. The little woman is a dark, blood red all over with deep crevices in the skin. Whether they are wrinkles caused from centuries of living or just a physical trait of this particular demon, Buffy is unsure. Her eyes are black and lifeless and she has a head of wild white hair.

"Shush child," she scolds, "Noise will get you killed."

"Only one thing getting killed around here lady," Buffy retorts ominously, scowling at the woman.

The woman glares back and grabs a walking stick that's been innocently leaning against the small make shift bed Buffy is on. In one quick and painful blow, the little lady jumps and smacks the top of Buffy's head.

"Ow!" Buffy shrieks, unable to rub the sore spot on her head.

"Shhh," the demon snaps again, losing her patience.

The woman snaps her fingers together and a warm sensation floods over Buffy, her muscles relaxing and moving again.

"Where am I?" Buffy asks, studying the demon with narrowed eyes. "How did I get here?"

The woman stops mid pace and purses her lips, "Poor, poor human child. All alone and lost."

The demon sighs and hobbles over to a small stove, where she retrieves something freshly brewed. The little cup fits snugly in the palm of Buffy's hand and she struggles to hold it without breaking it. Buffy looks at the pink concoction inside and warily sniffs it, smiling at the pleasant smell of strawberries. Suddenly overwhelmed with thirst, Buffy takes a sip and a wonderful calm feeling radiates through her.

"Thank you," Buffy says genuinely. "But please, tell me where I am? Where's my sister? My friends?"

"Not here child," the demon answers sorrowfully. "You won't find any human here."

Buffy frowns.

"Where is here?" she asks, taking a final sip of her drink.

"The question child is not where, but when."

"I don't understand," Buffy insists, "One minute I'm fighting Glory and then I'm on top of a big tower and I – I jump... I died. I'm supposed to die. Death is my gift," Buffy voice starts to crack with emotion and a single tear rolls down her cheek, "Am I in hell?"

"Oh no, no, no," the woman soothes. "You are in Sunnydale - exactly where you fell."

"Again, I'm with the not understanding," Buffy says, wiping the back of her hand over her cheek to remove the tear.

"You fell here exactly one hundred years ago," the demon explains, "Time is a peculiar thing. It loops round and round and round and for many cycles it will repeat the exact same loop. But sometimes," she leans closer to Buffy to whisper, as though she's about to reveal a forbidden secret, "Sometimes, they change things."

"_They_?"

"The Powers That Be," the woman clarifies. "And they want you to change something."

Buffy frowns so hard her head begins to hurt.

"What do they want me to change? How do you know this?"

"I am Rhudita," she announces formally. Buffy wonders if that's her name or some sort of title in a demon language. "And it is my duty, to guide those thrown through time to the right path. You have been sent here to change what is. The world is a dark, evil place, swarming with unmentionable monsters. Humans are an endangered species, either forced underground or enslaved by the rich and powerful. It is not a world that was meant to be. It is your mission to save it."

A cold, unsettling feeling builds in the pit of Buffy's stomach and she self consciously holds herself around the middle.

"How can I change what's already happened?"

"When you have found the answer, you will be sent back, given a second chance to bring peace to the world," Rhudita explains.

Buffy contemplates this news for a while. She was alone, one hundred years into the future, which meant her friends and her sister would all be dead. Except...

"I need to find Angel," Buffy suddenly exclaims, standing so fast, she forgets the low ceiling again. "Stupid ceiling," she grumbles, rubbing the sore spot on her head.

"Dead," the woman simply states. "Given the gift of human life - a reward for his redemption. Died a human death at the age of seventy six."

Buffy's hand is on the petite door handle when she freezes to the spot, this time caused by shock and not magic. All air seems to escape her lungs and her knees buckle beneath her. She falls so hard; the tiny house trembles from the impact.

_I'm alone. _

And then a small and unlikely ray of hope shines in the darkness of her situation.

"What about Spike? William the Bloody?" Buffy asks.

The black, lifeless eyes of the demon woman seem to momentarily brighten at the suggestion from the slayer and a small smile twitches at her thin and broken lips. Rhudita suddenly lifts her hand to eye level and in a snap, clicks her fingers and vanishes in a puff of glittery smoke.

And then everything vanishes. The shabby little house disintegrates in front of Buffy's eyes. The warmth from the tiny, crackling fire evaporates and Buffy finds herself somewhere entirely different.

"Oh great," Buffy grumbles, standing in an alley way.

"Buffy?"

She whirls around at the unmistakable British accent.

"Spike?" she asks cautiously.

The alley way is dark, too dark for her to see all the way down and he's hiding somewhere in the shadows. There's the unmistakable and gag worthy smell of rotting vegetables and a light drizzle is already soaking her to the bone. She takes a shaky step forward and jumps when his face is suddenly illuminated by his lighter and then cigarette.

"Never thought I'd say this," she sighs, "But boy am I pleased to see you!"

A horrible feeling settles over her when he simply looks at her, not moving from his position leaning against the brick alley way wall. She feels vulnerable in that moment, realising this was not the same Spike she knew. This one was older with a lifetime of experiences she would have no idea about. Was he evil again? Did he still have a chip?

"Spike?" she asks softly, not daring to move towards him.

"You're not Buffy," he says nonchalantly, "Almost had me going for a minute, thinking my Slayer was back from the dead to heal the break in this unbeating heart. So what's a demon like you come to torture old Spikey for this time?"

There's an odd tone to his voice that she doesn't recognise. He sounds... exhausted.

"Spike it's me," she insists, "It's..."

He lunges out of the dark too fast for her to react and his hand is around her throat, pushing her up against the brick wall, leaving her feet dangling from the ground. He's stronger than before. Buffy feels like a normal, non-slayer woman in the grasp of a very angry vampire and her hands claw frantically at his.

"Spike!" she chokes, "I can't breathe!"

His eyes flash gold and his demon surfaces. Buffy's eyes widen with horror and she tries to kick him in the ribs, but he's faster than before too, and swerves away easily, still pinning her against the wall. Menacingly, he leans in, fangs bared, and Buffy gulps, preparing herself for Spike's _one good day. _

But he stops just millimetres from her neck, his head pulling back and his demon facade slipping away. His grip loosens and she tumbles to the floor like a rag doll.

"Buffy?" he asks tenderly, "Is that really you pet?"

"Well duh!" Buffy snaps, her voice hoarse from the vampire's attack.

"How?"

She can see the intensity, the hope, in his blue eyes as he studies her, his expression close to awe.

"I jumped through time," she explains shortly, getting to her feet.

"Through time?" Spike repeats, frowning in thought. "From –"

He was about to ask "_from when?",_ but Buffy's fist connecting with his nose stops him. He flies back and slumps to the floor, a steady stream of blood running down his nose.

"Ow bloody hell!" he growls, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What was that for?!"

"You almost killed me!" she yells back. "You're lucky you're not dust."

She crosses her arms across her chest and taps her foot with irritation. A dark chuckle bubbles out of the vampire's mouth, stilling Buffy's foot.

"Why are you laughing?" she asks.

"Poor little Bitchy Buffy has been sent to future town," he continues to chuckle, getting to his feet. The look he gives her makes her blood run cold, "You're not ready for this world luv. Toddle on back and visit Big Bad when you're a few years older."

He turns to walk away and Buffy's momentarily stunned by the cold tone to his voice. It's been a long time since Spike has seemed even remotely threatening, especially since his admission of love for her. She regains herself, frustrated with the blonde vampire and charges after him. She grabs his sleeve and whirls him around.

"What the hell does that mean?" Buffy's voice is dripping with anger, her eyes locked on the vampire, "And I am not _Bitchy Buffy._"

Spike straightens his duster and lights a new cigarette. He takes a long drag and leans back against the brick wall, staring up at the thin sliver of cloudy sky above. A sad emotion seems to pass over him and he squeezes his eyes shut in an effort to recompose himself. His jaw clenches and his face hardens, he turns to look at Buffy.

"I'm guessing from the punch in the nose you're what... From the year 2000? 2001?" he looks at her, raising his eyebrow expectantly.

She squirms slightly under his knowing gaze, disturbed by his accuracy, "2001. How could you know that from a punch?"

"Because you stopped punching me like that after I got my soul," he replies matter-of-factly.

Buffy's jaw drops, "You have a soul?! When? Why?"

He smiles sadly, ducking his head demurely, remembering.

"Why does a man do what he mustn't? For her. To be hers," he recites, his voice is thick with emotion. He shakes his head as though to clear the memory and looks back up at her, "But I'm not yours. Not yet - and I don't much fancy playing a game of Kick-the-Spike." He smirks cockily and leans back on the heels of his boots, hooking his thumbs through the loops of his black jeans. "Not that you'd do any real damage. I've come a long way since those days."

"You got your soul back for me?" Buffy says her voice barely above a whisper.

"I did," he replies.

There's a long moment of silence as Buffy lets the information sink in. Finally, Spike sighs heavily, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"I'll help you go home," he says. "But you've gotta promise not to punch me and play nice. This isn't Kansas anymore Dorothy. You live in _my _world now."

"OK," she agrees. "Where are we anyway?"

Spike smirks, "Welcome to London, luv. Home sweet home."

* * *

The walk to Spike's apartment is silent and awkward. They keep to the shadows to keep Buffy hidden and she's exposed to very little of what the future world looks like, only catching brief glimpses of deserted and litter filled streets. Eventually, they arrive at a tall, non-descript block of flats, highlighted by a full moon. The windows are boarded and no lights can be seen. Spike instinctively grabs Buffy's hand, knowing she won't be able to see once they enter. The hurt he feels when she pulls her hand away touches deep in his soul, but he reminds himself that this Buffy hasn't fallen in love with him yet – hasn't become his lover, friend or soul mate.

"You can't see in here," he says with a blank tone, "Stop being a bloody baby and hold my hand."

He holds out his hand to her again and she rolls her eyes, taking his hand reluctantly. They enter and as Spike had said, its pitch black once they close the door behind them. She trips once, but Spike holds her up. They seem to be walking for ages and questions start to form in Buffy's head that she's desperate to know answers for.

"So we still work together in the future?" Buffy asks.

"Something like that," the vampire mumbles, leading her up a flight of stairs.

"What did you mean when you said you're not mine yet?"

Spike considers telling her everything. How they had become unhealthy lovers. How he had won his soul and saved the world. How he had died for her. How they had reunited and rekindled their friendship, eventually having the loving relationship he had always dreamed of. Until she had died. He didn't want to think about that part.

"I don't think that's important right now luv," he says as they come to a stop.

She can hear his hand fumbling across the wall and finally there's a sound of a creaky door opening and he leads her inside. He flips a light on and a cluttered room of weapons, books and antique furniture appears before her eyes in the dim glow of the dying light bulb overhead.

Spike lets her hand go and shrugs his duster off, purposefully knocking a simple silver picture frame over as he goes. Buffy frowns at the action, wondering what he's hiding.

"Spike, I wanna know what you meant," she pushes, closing the door behind her.

He wanders over to a dirty old fridge that leans at an angle in the far corner of the room. He opens it and the light inside flickers. With one hand, he pulls out a jar of blood and with the other; an unlabelled bottle of something that Buffy has no doubt is alcohol. He kicks the fridge door shut behind him and saunters over to a ratty old chair, flopping back on it and putting his feet up on a highly polished coffee table.

"Want some?" he offers her the unlabelled bottle.

She scrunches her nose up, "A world of no."

He shrugs indifferently and takes a gulp of blood and then alcohol.

"Spike, stop being all avoid-y," she scolds.

"Look Slayer," he says edgily, "You've been sent forward to fix the world and all that rot, right?"

She nods.

"Right. Everything I tell you could change the course of the future. I've probably already shared too much," he says the last words lowly – regretfully.

"Fine," Buffy huffs.

An awkward silence falls again and clearly Spike isn't in the mood for talking. Buffy decides to take a look around, starting with the fallen picture frame. He's positioned so his back is facing her, but as her fingers ghost over the frame, she suddenly finds his hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Don't touch that," he growls, but then his voice softens, "It's for your own good, pet. And mine."

Buffy pulls her hand away from his grip, glancing between the chair and him.

"When did you get so fast?" she asks, eyeing him suspiciously. "And strong? And what happened to your chip?"

He tightens his lips in an obvious restraint to stop himself from telling her. She sighs with exasperation.

"I'm going to bed," she moans. "You do have a bed, right?"

Spike nods and points toward a door at the other end of the room. It's fallen off its hinges and sits askew in the frame. Buffy looks at it doubtfully, but heads over to it anyway. She puts her hand on the doorknob and pushes it gently to open it, but the entire thing collapses and crumbles to the floor in a cloud of dust. She coughs, waving her hand in front of her face to clear the air. She walks through the door frame and quickly returns.

"I'm not sleeping in there," she states. "There's rat poop."

"I don't have another bed luv," Spike informs her. "And it's too dangerous to take you to where I live. It's a strictly no human zone. You'll lose your pretty head before you can even reach for Mr Pointy."

"You don't live here?" she asks confused.

"Pfft, 'course I don't," Spike scoffs, "We – I mean – I _used _to live here, but now.." he struggles for an explanation. "I just moved on is all. I only come back when I need something."

"OK," Buffy says hesitantly.

"You can have the good old comfy chair," Spike finally offers. "I've slept in worse places than a rat infested bed."

He leaves her to make herself comfortable, heading for the bedroom he had tried to avoid for nearly fifty years.

"Spike?" Buffy calls after him. He stops, but doesn't turn to her.

"Yeah luv?"

"Thanks, ya know, for helping me."

Spike smiles tenderly. Something about the tone of her voice reminding him of the woman she has yet to become. He refuses to turn back to her, not wanting her to see the pain on his face and he waves a dismissive hand in an attempt of a nonchalant acknowledgment of her words.

But even as he disappears into the darkness of the bedroom, Buffy sees the remains of a broken man.

_**TBC...**_


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **I'm so pleased with the response I've had with this so far! Hope everyone enjoys the next chapter! Writing a time travel story is much more complicated than I had first thought! I hope this turns out OK, please let me know what you think...

**Summary:** After Buffy sacrifices herself to save Dawn, she expects to receive her reward; Death. However, when she wakes up 100 years in the future, she realises her slayer duties are far from over and there's only one man still alive to help her find her way home.

**Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Life after Death**

**By Secret Slayer**

**Chapter Two**

**Memories**

Spike knows he's dreaming. That he's only torturing himself to let it continue.

But she's there.

"Happy Birthday Buffy," Spike says demurely.

She turns at the sound of his voice, her face radiant with a smile – a smile for him. She whispers something in Willow's ear and the witch glances behind her shoulder, winking at the vampire, and then Buffy walks towards him, tucking her golden hair behind her ears.

"Hey," she says softly.

"You look beautiful luv."

Buffy's smile beams and she does a little twirl, showing off her little red dress and black stilettos. Her hair is loose and falls in long, gold waves down her back. She looks up at the vampire seductively, her eyes smoky with eyeliner and lips stained with a dark red lipstick that matches her dress.

"You like?"

Spike smirks, "Very much."

They stare at each other for a moment, before Buffy grins again, bouncing on the spot with anticipation, no longer looking the sexy woman she had been seconds before, but instead resembling a ten year old who's had too much sugar.

"So, what did ya get me?"

Spike rolls his eyes at the slayer. She opens his leather duster to see if he's hidden her present in his inside pocket, but pouts when she can't find anything.

"It's traditional to bring the birthday girl a present Spike," she scolds playfully, eyeing him suspiciously. "Come on vampy, give me the goods."

"Impatient one, aren't you?" he chuckles, taking her hand.

He leads her through the dancers in the club and towards the exit. Anxiously, she glances behind her, but her friends have disappeared.

"Spike, where are you taking me?"

"Didn't think I'd come empty handed, did you luv?"

Spike pushes the door open and it crashes back against the outside wall. Buffy shivers at the winter cold.

"Why is England so cold?" she grumbles.

Spike shrugs his duster off and wraps it around her. She smiles gratefully.

"Spike, I don't wanna sound ungrateful, but all I can see is a –"

A car drives down the street and pulls up in front of them. The window winds down and Xander pats the passenger seat next to him. Buffy gives him a questioning look.

"Get in Buff," he says cheerfully.

Buffy peeks inside and see's Dawn sitting in the back, smiling goofily. The slayer glances at Spike, whose eyes are glistening with amusement. He reaches in front of her, opening the door to the front passenger seat.

"Ladies first," he says in a chivalrous way.

She smiles courteously and slides in beside Xander. Spike slips in the back beside Dawn.

"What are you guys up to?" Buffy asks suspiciously.

"C'mon Buff," Xander says, keeping his good eye on the road, "Don't you trust us?"

A light drizzle starts to fall and Buffy stares out of the tinted windows. They turn down a pleasant looking street that's cobbled with Victorian style lampposts. She looks over her shoulder at Spike, who's keeping a blank facade. The car slows to a stop and Spike jumps out, opening the door for her and offering her a hand.

"Where are we?" she asks, keeping hold of the vampire's hand.

"Home," Spike says.

Buffy frowns, her eyes locking with Spike's.

"Here Spike," Dawn hands him a little pink box, which he takes with his free hand.

Buffy looks at the little box with bewilderment, its shiny pink paper decorated with a perfect red bow. He hands it to her and she glances at him one last time, before unravelling the bow and opening the box. Inside, sits a single silver key.

Buffy's eyes widen and she looks up at the expensive apartments beside them, where a doorman in a fine suit greets them. The man looks at her knowingly, clearly having been involved in the big surprise.

"Spike!" she squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck, "You bought an apartment! In London!"

"Thought we could give globe trottin' a rest for a bit luv," he says, leading her inside the building. "Keep the London streets safe from things that go bump in the night and you know, try and do something normal. Like have somewhere to live."

"I love it Spike," she says with awe as they enter the elevator.

"Gee Buff, you've not even seen the place yet," Xander jokes.

The elevator makes a jolly _ping _and the doors slide open onto a bright, cream coloured hallway where a tall potted fern sits at the end. Spike leads Buffy out and they stop at the door at the very end of the corridor. There's a banner taped diagonally across the door.

_Happy 30__th__ Birthday Buffy!_

She takes the little key out of the box and opens the door, where Willow stands, a birthday cake alight with thirty candles in her hands.

"What do you think Buffy?" the witch asks.

"It's beautiful," she whispers.

Spike bolts upright as something heavy lands on his chest. His happy memory fades into nothing, leaving the apartment dirty and shabby and real. He sighs heavily, seeing the slayer standing impatiently at the foot of the bed, tapping her foot. He looks down at the candle she had launched at him and suppresses a smirk.

_Some things never change._

"What do you want Slayer?"

"I want to go home Spike," she says curtly, "And to do that, you've gotta tell me what I need to know."

"No can do luv," he sighs. "Need to find another way."

"Don't make this difficult Spike."

Spike laughs darkly. "Sorry pet, thought we agreed to play by my rules?"

She purses her lips with frustration. "Stop messing around Spike."

"It's not my bleedin' fault the powers that be sent you on an impossible quest," he growls with irritation. He pulls his shirt off and her eyes widen in surprise. "I'm takin' a shower."

He walks towards a door that leads to an ensuite. His hand is on the doorknob, when she charges forward, slamming it shut again. She stands in front of it defiantly, pressing her back against it as much as possible, more to keep a distance between herself and the half naked vampire.

"Tell me what I need to know," she demands.

Spike's jaw clenches. "No."

He tries to open it again, but she backs into it, slamming it shut. He growls with frustration.

"Why won't you help me? Do you hate me that much?"

Spike chuckles humourlessly, almost hysterically. Buffy takes a step back, her brow knitted in worry – mostly for her own safety. This was a much faster, stronger Spike and she had no idea what their future relationship was like. For all she knew, he could be itching to kill her.

"I wish I bloody hated you," he finally growls. "But that's the problem innit? I don't. Never have. Not really. You know this. I'll be in love with you until the day I die."

Buffy frowns with confusion, "If you love me, why won't you help me? Why are you being such a jerk?"

"You wouldn't understand," he says dismissively.

"Try me."

Spike looks at her, his eyes hard as stone. For a brief moment, Buffy thinks he's going to tell her everything, but he lunges forward, hoisting her over his shoulder. She yelps with surprise and he carries her out of the room, dumping her on her feet. He storms back into the bedroom, slamming the bathroom door shut. The sound of a lock clicking in place makes Buffy flinch. She hears the shower come on and slumps her shoulders.

She takes the time to look at the apartment. At some point, she thinks it must have been beautiful. There are ornate and elegant light fittings that are caked in a good decade of grime. The living room has a large panoramic window that she can't see out of due to the heavy, moth eaten drapes that are pulled across. It's a mostly open plan layout. The lounge flows into a dining room and kitchen. It feels smaller than it is due to all the clutter. She walks into the living room and gets a shiver, feeling as though she had been there before – lived there before.

The sound of a woman laughing startles her and she whips around, only to see an empty room. Another woman's laugh echoes behind her with an eerie quality and she turns, her eyes widening at a ghostly apparition before her. A fireplace she hadn't noticed before, glows dimly, decorated with Christmas ornaments. In front of the crackling fire, Dawn and Willow sit, opening presents. They're different, Buffy notices - older. Simultaneously, they look to Buffy, both with beaming smiles.

"Happy Christmas Buff!" Willow says happily.

She jumps at the sound of a door bursting open behind her and Spike appears, fully dressed with dripping wet hair. She turns back to the fire place, but its lifeless and still again. Spike looks at her oddly, whilst rubbing a small blue towel through his hair.

"What are you looking at?" he asks, sounding nervous.

"I thought I saw something," she says quietly.

Spike looks at the fireplace sadly. So many wonderful memories had happened there.

"Do you have food?" Buffy asks, disturbing his thoughts.

"There should be some canned stuff in the kitchen," he mumbles.

Buffy nods and heads into the kitchen. She's not sure why she heads straight for the second to last drawer at the far end of the kitchen, but she opens it without hesitation, revealing a cupboard full of canned food.

"Why'd you ask if I had food if you knew where it was?" Spike asks, confused.

Buffy pulls out a can of tomato soup and looks at the vampire, who's leaning against the old fridge.

"I didn't know where it was," she says unconvincingly, "Lucky guess."

It had been more than a lucky guess though, Buffy knows that deep down. She somehow knew where it was kept, the same way that she knows where the saucepan is and how to turn the stove on. Spike raises an eyebrow at her.

"Looks like more than a lucky guess to me," he mutters under his breath.

"Shut up Spike," she says weakly, feeling a headache forming.

"I've been thinking Slayer," Spike announces, "I'll tell you a few stories after all."

Buffy eyes him suspiciously, "What made you change your mind?"

He shrugs, "S'what you want, innit? Sod the consequences. Gotta help the woman I love. Not like I could make anything any worse, worlds in a terrible bloody state."

"And why is that?"

"No bloody rules luv," Spike says, leaning across her to turn the hob off. She looks down at the bubbling soup, which has overflowed and splattered over the surface. He smirks at her, "Unfortunately, your cooking skills don't improve pet."

She ignores his last comment, "What do you mean there aren't any rules?"

Spike looks thoughtful and then smiles, "I'll show you."

He strides over to the large window and grabs the heavy drapes, ripping them from the rail. Buffy winces at the sudden burst of light, but then the impact of what she sees takes her breath away. Spike stands in the morning glow of the sun.

"You're not on fire," she states.

"Nifty innit?" there's bitterness to his tone, "Can walk into any person's home I please as well, no invite required."

"How?" Buffy's voice is small.

"I guess that's what you've been sent here to figure out Goldilocks," he says grimly, "No one knows why it happened. Not even Willow. There was no prophecy or burst of mystical energy. The world just changed. Demon's got the upper hand. Been bloody chaos for decades."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to fix this," she says, eyes widening with panic. "If I couldn't fix it the first time, why do they think I can fix it now?"

She notices the sad look that passes over Spike and feels a heaviness build in her heart.

"I wasn't here the first time, was I?"

"No, pet, you weren't," he says glumly.

She frowns.

"I die a lot, huh?" she says, trying to hide her sadness.

Spike bites his lip to stop himself from telling her anymore, confident that that sort of information can only be damaging. He'd told her enough to get her home.

"I need some fresh air," she declares, heading to the front door.

Spike rushes after her. "Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?"

"Out," she says sharply, opening the door.

Morning light creeps through the cracks of the boarded windows, no longer making it impossible for her to see where she's going. She notices a withered fern at the far end of the corridor and stares at it, trying to place why it feels so familiar. Spike's hand on her shoulder snaps her out of it.

"Have you gone completely carrot top?!" he snaps in a hushed tone.

"I'm the slayer Spike, I can handle myself," she says arrogantly.

"Have you not paid attention to a bloody thing I've just told you?!"

"Yeah, sounds to me like there's some serious slayage to be done."

"Wrong. You go out there alone you'll be dead in a heartbeat. I'm not bloody losing you again. Not like that."

Buffy's expression softens. "What am I supposed to do Spike?"

"You wanna go for a walk about, you'll have to fit in."

Buffy raises an eyebrow at him. "Fit in?"

"And I'm gonna need to find the right paperwork," he says, suddenly distracted and going back into the apartment.

Buffy follows him back. He's fumbling through some draws, haphazardly throwing books and paper everywhere.

"Paperwork?"

"Not allowed to have a human unless you have the right permission," he explains absently. "Ah ha! Here it is!"

He pulls out a piece of paper and quickly scribbles a signature on it.

"To have a human?" Buffy repeats indignantly. "What am I, a dog?"

"Not my rules luv," he says regretfully.

He rummages through another drawer and pulls out a round, metal loop.

"Put this on," he instructs.

"You are kidding, right?"

At his icy glare, she rolls her eyes and takes the collar. It's heavy with some kind of language she doesn't recognise engraved all around it. She slips it over her head and it magically tightens to a close fit around her neck, impossible to slip off again.

"I can't see this going with any of my outfits," she grumbles.

"Oh Buffy!" a female voice squeals happily, "You look so pretty."

Buffy whips around and comes face to face with Willow again.

"Will?"

Buffy reaches out to the witch, but her hand goes straight through her and she flickers like a static television.

"Wait until Spike sees you," the witch continues, giving Buffy a wink.

"Spike?"

"What luv?"

She whirls around again, Spike looking at her expectantly.

"Nothing," she says, looking behind her to an empty room. Willow was gone.

_What the hell is going on?_

"Whatever happens, don't mention you're the slayer," Spike warns, then smirks, "And remember, I own you, so none of that lip you've been giving either."

"Own me?!"

He cocks his head, hinting at her collar.

"Every human needs to have an owner, or they're happy meals on legs."

"I hate this world," she grumbles, following him out of the apartment.

"Funny, I'm starting to see its perks."

_**TBC...**_


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: ** The last chapter was a toughie to write. Hope you're all still with me, I love hearing your feedback. I'm having lots of fun with this story, but it's such a challenge. Hope it's alright?

Shout out to orangeorchid, satansagels9, ginar369, TheBlueDragonWolf and Rihannon for your brilliant reviews so far.

**Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Life after Death**

**By Secret Slayer**

**Chapter Three**

**Remember**

If she had known Spike was going to drag her half way across the city, pulling her so fast her feet ached, she wouldn't have insisted on getting fresh air.

They round a corner of a busy high street. The pavements are buzzing with demons of all shapes and sizes, some of which have timid, malnourished humans scurrying along behind them. Buffy gets a few odd looks and decides to keep her head down. Maybe it was because she looked like a healthy, normal person. Or maybe they could sense she was more than just a woman.

Spike suddenly stops in front of her and she collides into his back with an _oomph. _He grabs her arm and pulls her through a door. She's instantly hit by the smell of perfumes, hair products and nail varnish.

"Abbie, pet, need you to give my human a new look," Spike says as soon as he pulls Buffy through the salon doors. Buffy yanks her arm out of his grasp and glares at him. He smirks at her and then cockily adds, "Something radical."

"Spike!" Buffy hisses, "What are you doing?"

"If we're gonna save this sorry planet, you need to look like anything but the slayer. Your face is well known Goldilocks. Won't be long before someone figures you out and then this whole mission is kaput."

Buffy purses her lips, dreading what's about to happen, but nods in agreement. Spike smirks again, turning to the blue skinned demon cutting a vampire's hair. Abbie is pretty - _for a demon_ – and much taller than Spike, with a toned and feminine body. Her hair is blood red and falls in soft curls down her back, occasionally broken up by delicate braids. Her mischievous green eyes lock on Spike and she smirks, clearly loving his presence. Buffy glances between them both.

"Anything for you Spikey," she purrs, abandoning the podgy vampire she had been styling.

She saunters forward, her knee high leather boots clicking rhythmically on the linoleum floor. Spike raises an appreciative eyebrow at the sexy demon, causing Buffy to roll her eyes.

"It's just Spike," the vampire says coolly.

She smiles and the sexual tension dissipates into something more friendly, "Whatever, Blondie."

Abbie approaches Buffy, "Let's take a look at you then babe."

Spike side steps out of the way to give the demon a better look and Abbie instantly looks alarmed.

"Oh my god," she breathes, "Is that..."

"Yeah luv," Spike interjects quickly.

Abbie seems to get teary eyed and Buffy frowns, confused by her reaction.

"Go into the back room," the demon orders softly. "I'll make sure no one else goes in there."

Spike nods gratefully and heads to a door at the far end of the salon. Buffy follows, keeping her head down.

They're barely in the room five seconds, before Abbie bursts through, flinging her arms around the slayer. Buffy stumbles back a little from the impact, and then stiffens, glancing at Spike nervously.

"Oh Buffy! Babe! It's been forever. How did this happen?" Abbie squeals excitedly.

Abbie pulls back, but keeps her hands gently holding the slayer's forearms. She looks at Buffy expectantly, and then frowns at the lack of recognition in her eyes. She looks over to the vampire with concern.

"She doesn't know you pet," Spike explains, pulling out a cigarette. "She's a different Buffy."

Abbie pouts and slumps back in a chair. "Different how?"

Spike opens his mouth to answer, but Buffy cuts him off. "How do I know I can trust you?"

A hurt look flickers across the demon's delicate features. "I'm your friend."

The sincerity in her tone knocks the fight out of Buffy.

"She time travelled," Spike explains, leaning back against the wall and taking a long drag of his smoke, "Come to save us."

"Nothing changed there then," Abbie says softly.

There's an awkward pause and Buffy fidgets with her jumper sleeve, avoiding eye contact with the beautiful demon, who's staring back at her with awe. Spike seems to be contemplating, his brow creased and his cigarette fast disappearing.

"I think brunette," Abbie suddenly says, lifting from her chair. "And short."

Buffy's eyes widen and she consciously runs a hand through her blonde hair.

"Not short," Spike says. "I like it long."

"Anyone wanna ask Buffy what _she_ likes?" Buffy says irritably.

"Sorry luv," Spike smirks, "My world, my-"

"Rules. Blah, blah, blah," Buffy grumbles. "Fine. Lets get this over with."

Three hours later and Abbie swivels Buffy's chair around to face the mirror. At first, Buffy is speechless and the demon bites her bottom lip anxiously, waiting for a verdict. Buffy gently touches her new brunette locks, with just a tiny hint of red running through it. She smiles.

"It's beautiful," she says softly. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome sweetie," Abbie says kindly.

"How much do I owe you?" Spike asks, unable to tear his eyes away from Buffy's new hair.

Abbie laughs, pleased that Spike clearly appreciates her work. "It's on the house. My contribution to saving the world."

Spike nods.

"Does she need clothes?" Abbie asks.

"I still have her old ones back at the flat," Spike says, pain edging his tone. "They should do fine."

"Why do you have my clothes?" Buffy asks, eyeing him dubiously.

"You didn't tell her?" Abbie's voice rises slightly with disbelief.

"Tell me what?"

"Nothing," Spike says sharply, giving Abbie a dirty look.

"Is this like that time you snuck into my room and sniffed my sweater?" Buffy asks, her cheeks flushing with annoyance. "Riley told me. You can be such a creep."

Spike rolls his eyes, "I'm a vampire. What do you expect?"

He doesn't want to tell her the real reason her clothes were at the apartment. He much prefers that she draw her own conclusions, too worried that the truth could lead to complications that could damage everything he has known. Abbie looks at him with concern.

* * *

"Oooo pretty," Buffy admires, running her hand along the expensive fabrics inside the decaying wardrobe.

Spike smiles fondly, remembering her saying that when she had bought the clothes to start with.

_"You should wear that one."_

Buffy whirls around to see Dawn standing there, pointing eagerly at a sparkly red top in the wardrobe.

"Dawn?"

Her sister ignores her, stepping forward and grabbing the top. _"You'd look so hot in this. What do you think Xand?"_

_"I'm a man and therefore staying out of this. It's bad enough I've had to endure chick flicks with you ladies,"_ he says.

Buffy scowls.

"Xander? What happened to your eye?"

Suddenly, she's aware that she's being shaken and her focus snaps to Spike, who's just inches from her face.

"Buffy," he says sternly, "Snap out of it."

"Spike, something is happening to me."

Spike starts pacing with frustration. Buffy instinctively rushes to him, putting a tentative hand on his arm.

"Spike, honey, what's wrong?"

They both pause and Buffy looks horrified, pulling her hand back like it was burnt.

"Did I just call you honey?"

"You're remembering," Spike says flatly, piecing everything together, "The longer you're here, the more you remember. Bloody time travel."

"Remembering what? My brief touch of insanity," Buffy scoffs. "You're wrong."

Spike's jaw clenches angrily. "I'm not wrong."

"Why would I ever call you..." and then the penny drops. "Oh god. We're a... me and you ... Oh god."

Spike rolls his eyes. Buffy walks away from him and starts her own pacing, her brow heavily creased in a frown. She stops occasionally, going to say something, then seems to swallow her own words and start pacing again. Eventually, with a face of thunder, she turns to him.

"What did you do?!" she accuses.

"What did _I_ do? I didn't do a bloody thing," he growls.

Buffy folds her arms impatiently, "Was it a spell?"

"You're off your rocker," he says dismissively.

"Really? Says the guy who chained me up in his crypt and then made a sex bot that looks like me?" Buffy raises both her eyebrows at him.

"That was a long time ago."

"Not for me."

"Fine," Spike says, "You don't believe me. I'll prove it."

"How?" Buffy asks, looking at him stubbornly.

He turns and marches off, grabbing the small silver frame he had been hiding from her. He shoves it into her hands and she looks down at it, confused at first, before something jolts into her mind like an electric shock.

_The night is slow. Not a single vamp to rise and meet its dusty ending. A large, full moon rests low in the sky, casting a bright silver glow across the Los Angeles cemetery. There's a cool breeze drifting through and Buffy shivers, pulling her coat closer around herself._

_"You're awfully quiet tonight," Buffy says, giving Spike a friendly nudge in the side._

_He smiles half-heartedly, not giving her eye contact. Buffy frowns at him and stops. He's so caught up in his own thoughts, he's a good few strides ahead before he realises she's not at his side anymore._

_"Tired already pet?" Spike mocks feebly._

_"Don't play games Spike," Buffy sighs irritably, "I've known you too long to know something's up. Tell me."_

_Spike looks at her for a moment, his eyes hesitant. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and rocks back on his heels like an awkward school boy. Eventually he sighs and takes a tentative step towards her._

_"I'm leaving Buffy," he says lowly, avoiding her eyes again._

_"What? Spike, you can't leave," she says, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're my best friend. I don't know what to do without you. You're my strength."_

_"I'm your bloody dark place and you know it," Spike replies, finally looking at her. She flinches from his tone and he sighs regretfully, "I'll always have your back luv. I'll always love you. But I can't be the one you run to every time something goes wrong. I want more Buffy. I want all of you or none of you. I can't settle for in between anymore."_

_Spike looks at her expectantly, hoping she'll finally confess her feelings for him, but she simply looks at him, seemingly frozen._

_"I'll be gone by the morning," Spike mumbles. "Was going to stick around for a while. See Niblet's big day, but I think it will be easier for every one if I just high-tail it outta here."_

_He turns silently._

_"Spike!" Buffy calls._

_He spins around, just in time to meet her lips. She kisses him passionately and he instinctively wraps his arms around her waist, whilst hers loop around his neck. They part, breathing heavily._

_"Been a while since we've done that," Spike smirks. "You tryin' to tell me something pet?"_

_Buffy bites her bottom lip nervously. "You're not my dark place Spike. You're my best friend, but you're more than that. It scares me. We fight and we argue, but we're equals and I trust you with my life. I can't imagine a tomorrow without you in it. I love you."_

_"About bloody time," the vampire teases._

_Buffy playfully smacks him on the shoulder, but then kisses him. They're disturbed by a bright flash and clicking sound. They turn to see Willow, Xander and Dawn standing in row, all looking at them with goofy smiles. Except Xander, who's half goofy, half trying to fight the urge to say something to ruin the moment._

_"What are you guys doing?" Buffy asks suspiciously, stepping away from Spike and straightening her jacket._

_"We were testing out this new camera. It can photograph supernatural beasties that normally can't be detected. Like ghosts and vampires. We saw you two cuties making with the smoochies and..." Willow lifts the camera again and takes another photo._

_"Bloody hell, that thing bright enough?" Spike grumbles, blinking dramatically._

_"Aww Spike's camera shy," Dawn giggles._

_"Fearless vampire. Scourge of Europe. Slayer of Slayers. Defeated by the teeny tiny camera," Xander teases._

_"Watch it Harris," Spike warns, but then chuckles._

_"So are you guys finally together?" Dawn asks, smiling brightly._

_Buffy smiles softly at the vampire beside her, and twines her fingers through his. He smiles back._

_"Yeah," she declares._

_Dawn jumps on the spot excitedly, clapping her hands together._

The frame drops to the floor and the glass shatters. Buffy stumbles back, almost tripping over the coffee table. Spike frowns and hurries to grab his precious picture, dusting off the broken glass. The photo of him and Buffy kissing in the moonlight is undamaged. He sighs with relief.

"Buffy," he sighs softly.

"I don't wanna hear it," she interrupts.

She turns and runs for the bathroom, the only room with a useable door. It slams shut and the lock slides into place. Spike flinches and his shoulders slump. He stares sadly at the photo in his hands, hoping Buffy doesn't decide to change a lot more than the fate of the world when she returns to her time.

_**TBC...**_


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: ** Hope everyone is still with me on this one. Please enjoy the next chapter!

**Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Life after Death**

**By Secret Slayer**

**Chapter Four**

**Tantrum**

Buffy slams the door shut behind her, heavily yanking the lock across. The action instantly triggers another vision – another memory.

"_Leave me alone."_

_She's not in the bathroom anymore, but on the other side, gently knocking on the pristine white door. The bedroom is immaculate. The king-sized bed sits perfectly in the centre of the room with cream sheets and pretty pale pink cushions. There's a large window with floor to ceiling drapes, with dainty rose coloured flowers. They're pulled shut, only allowing a non-harmful soft glow of the afternoon sun through. From the ceiling hangs an expensive and delicate chandelier that resembles giant rain drops falling from the sky. Each rain drop shaped crystal refracts light around the room in a mesmerising display. Spike sits on the edge of the large bed, scowling at one of the cushions in his hand._

"_Why'd we have to make this room so bleedin' girly?"_

_Buffy rolls her eyes, abandoning her door knocking only briefly to remove the cushion from the vampire's hands before he pulls it apart. She carefully places it back in position at the head of the bed, giving it an approving nod._

"_Don't try to distract me," she scolds._

_She turns back to the door and raises her hand to knock on it again, when it swings open and her hand collides with a solid chest instead._

"_Have you gone insane?" Angel asks genuinely. _

"_I'm not the one that just threw a complete tantrum and locked myself in the bathroom," Buffy retorts, glaring at him disapprovingly._

"_But Spike? C'mon Buffy, you can't be serious," Angel raises both his eyebrows in the direction of the other vampire, giving Spike a dubious look. "I mean, look at the hair for a start."_

_"That's rich mate, coming from you," Spike scoffs. _

"_Angel, Spike and I are together now. I'm cookies. I've finished baking," she says softly. _

_Angel's shoulders slump. "I can't believe you called me over from Peru to tell me this."_

A loud bang on the door knocks the vision from Buffy's mind and she finds herself sitting on the closed toilet seat, her head in hands and her newly brunette hair falling like a curtain in front of her face.

"Come on luv, open the door," Spike says encouragingly. "We need to talk."

Buffy looks up angrily, "Don't call me luv. Don't call me anything. I don't want to talk. I want to go home."

There's a moment of silence and Buffy sighs with relief, but then the door bursts open and Spike stands there, his face a kaleidoscope of emotions. Mostly hurt, she notices, but also a lot of anger and frustration.

"We need to talk," he says sternly.

"You know what? Soul or no soul, I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't leave me alone."

"News flash kitten. You don't scare me."

Buffy glares at him and rises from her seat, marching right up to him and landing a punch square in the nose. He stumbles back, his game face coming to the fore. His mouth twists into a wicked smile and he licks his fangs hungrily, instantly relishing the fight.

"So you wanna dance?" he leers.

Like a boxer, he hops from one foot to the other, fists raised.

Buffy storms forward again and lands another punch to his face, but this time he doesn't stumble. She looks at him apprehensively, surprised at the lack of impact her punch had. She pulls her other fist back and places it in the same place as before. He laughs at her poor efforts. Her faces blushes red with anger and she pulls her fist back again, but just inches from his face, he catches it, twists her arm and pulls her flush against his chest, his other arm pinning her to him around her waist.

"Let me go," she warns through gritted teeth.

"Not until you play nice," he replies in a condescending tone.

She struggles once to no avail. She can't break his grip. He smirks when she finally stills and he releases her, taking a step back. Buffy turns around to face him, subconsciously rubbing her arm where he's been holding her, the bruises already forming. Future Spike was a lot stronger and faster than the vampire from her time.

"_You're getting faster," Buffy admires, then smirks cruelly. "But not fast enough."_

_She leaps over a headstone, chasing the bleached fiend. He's running so fast he's a blur to most, but not her. She's right on his tail._

"_That right Slayer?" Spike replies over his shoulder. "'Cause from here, looks like I'm winning."_

_Buffy's eyes glisten with mischief and she pushes ahead faster, her muscles burning in her legs. She leaps over another headstone and straight into his path. He skids to a stop to avoid running into her, churning up the soggy earth beneath his black boots. She laughs and skips over the white painted line in the grass. _

"_I win," she beams._

_Willow looks at her stop watch, smiling proudly. "Fastest time yet."_

"_You bloody cheated. I want to go again," the vampire grumbles, exhaling dramatically as though his dead lungs actually required the oxygen. Human habits never die. _

"_I must say, you're both making extraordinary progress," Giles admires, cleaning his glasses. He primly places them back on his nose, taking the clip board from Willow and examining it._

"_Yay, I'm top of the class for once in my life," Buffy says happily._

"_So Watcher, all this training is paying off right?"_

_Giles nods enthusiastically. "Indeed. Together, you're almost unstoppable."_

Buffy blinks and the memory fades. Her head is hurting. Spike is watching her with his human face now back in place, his eyes dark with grief and frustration. There's a heavy feeling of guilt in her chest that appears seemingly out of nowhere and she wonders if it's induced by the life she hasn't lived yet. However it got there, she can't shake it. Spike was doing his best to help her and all she could do was try and throw it back in his face. She isn't happy with her future decisions, but being a bitch about it isn't going to get her home any quicker.

"I'm sorry Spike," she sighs. "You're trying to help me and I'm just being a total bitch about it."

Spike looks at her curiously. He knew this Buffy better than she knew herself. She never would have apologised to him, especially not for punching him. His mind briefly wonders back to a Sunnydale alley way.

"_You don't ... have a soul! There is nothing good or clean in you. You are dead inside! You can't feel anything real! I could never ... be your girl!"_

He shakes his head and laughs bitterly.

"You always hurt the ones you love," he says, giving her a sad smile.

She frowns at him, his words seeming familiar, but she can't quite grasp why. She's sure she's heard him say that before, but there's not enough around her to trigger a clear memory.

"There are so many things I don't understand," Buffy sighs. "This is giving me an apocalypse sized migraine."

Buffy slumps down onto the armchair in the living room, leaning forward and raking both hands through her hair, which is amazingly soft from Abbie's treatment on it. Spike sits opposite her on the coffee table, their knees barely touching. She looks up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. Spike tilts his head as though trying to figure her out.

Buffy jumps when a black cat suddenly jumps onto her lap. It purrs loudly, rubbing itself against her chest, seemingly very happy to see her. The slayer raises a dubious eyebrow at the vampire, who's frowning disapprovingly at the feline.

"You have a cat?" Buffy asks, trying to stifle a laugh.

Spike glares at her, "Not bloody mine."

The cat's fur is softer than anything Buffy has ever felt before and its eyes are large and round, with one green and one amber eye. The way it looks at her is a little bit unsettling – almost human.

"This isn't a normal cat, is it?" Buffy asks.

"No," Spike replies. "He's a familiar."

"What's his name?"

Spike looks away and sighs heavily, "Mr Gordo."

Buffy frowns. "You called him Mr Gordo? You named him after my stuffed pig?"

Spike rolls his eyes. "No, you daft bint. You named him that. I'm looking after him for _you_."

"He's my cat?" Buffy asks in a soft voice.

"Yeah, he was."

The use of the word _was _seems to hit Buffy hard.

"How long ago did I die?"

Hurt flashes over the vampire's face, but he tries to remain nonchalant. "18263 today."

"Can't believe I'd let you look after my cat," Buffy says distractedly, enjoying the attention from the feline. "The guy who plays poker for kittens."

Spike chuckles, the mood lifting. "Well Dawn nearly killed him three times and Willow accidently turned him into a hamster, so I was all you had."

Buffy laughs. Genuinely laughs.

"This world is a mess Spike."

"That it is."

Mr Gordo suddenly jumps from the slayer's lap with a whining mewl and scurries under the refrigerator. Buffy pouts and Spike stares after the feline. A loud bang makes the front door tremble and both Buffy and Spike stand instinctively.

"Open the door," yells a voice on the other side. "We know she's in there."

"Bollocks," he curses, looking frantically from side to side.

"Spike what's going on?" Buffy asks.

"You gotta do what I say luv, or we're both dead," he whispers.

Buffy barely nods before the door flings off its hinges and slides across the full length of the floor. On the other side, stands an ugly demon in some sort of uniform. It's all of eight feet tall and has to practically duck in half to get through the door. It has putrid green skin and little brown horns sprouting from its brow. Behind, a smaller demon follows in with a matching uniform, holding a little electrical device that beeps faster when he gets closer to Buffy.

"Well what do we have here?" the big demon leers in a strange, gurgling voice, eyeing Buffy.

Spike stands between them to block his interrogating look and both demons sigh impatiently.

The tall demon chuckles darkly, circling the blonde and brunette. Its clumsy hooves clomp loudly on the floor and Buffy wonders if the decaying wood will withstand such a heavy monster. The ground trembles uncertainly with every step it takes.

"What would a vampire like you want with a human?" he muses, "When you know they're banned from your part of town."

Spike's eyes narrow, turning with the demon so that he's a constant barrier between him and Buffy.

"Thought I'd move back downtown," Spike says evenly. "Could do with a bit of company, something to have a nibble on. This one's pretty enough."

Buffy glares at Spike, which does not go unnoticed by the big demon.

"Oh dear. Got yourself one with attitude," he says, raising a knobbly brow.

The demon steps forward and shoves Spike out of the way. The vampire doesn't move far though and eyes the creature carefully as it leans in toward Buffy, its head just inches from hers. Buffy sets her chin defiantly as he looks her over. He grabs her face with a hand twice the size of her head, and turns it to inspect her. His breath turns Buffy's stomach. He releases her face with a rough push that sends her to the floor. Spike clenches his jaw to stop himself attacking the demon and helping Buffy to her feet. She rubs her elbow and goes to stand again, but the demon looks at her, indicating she should stay down. Buffy briefly glances at the vampire, who subtly nods, so she stays down. For now.

"She's not tagged," the demon finally announces, glaring at the little female human who dare look at him so disobediently.

"She's got a collar," Spike answers, feeling nervous at where things were going.

He could see the smaller demon reach into his uniform jacket and pull something out.

"Rules have changed. She needs a tag implanted. Bring her here," the little demon ordered. "Then we'll issue you a new licence."

Spike audibly swallows and Buffy feels a sick, cold feeling in her stomach from the expression on his face. He tries to swallow his nervousness, but she can see it clear as day.

"Right," he says hesitantly.

When Spike doesn't move, the big demon rolls its eyes and carelessly grabs Buffy by the elbow and hauls her to her feet, dragging her to the little demon.

"Get off me!" Buffy snaps.

She tries to pull her arm free, but the big demon is too strong.

"Oh this one can talk!" the little demon says excitedly. "What a wonderful find. No wonder you want to keep her."

The little demon reveals what he had had in his pocket. At first Buffy thinks it's some strange future contraption, but then she realises it's a syringe. She hates needles.

"This doesn't hurt," the little demon soothes, then smiles wickedly. "Much."

Suddenly, the floor gives an almighty groan and shudders, before giving way completely. The big demon loses its grip on Buffy and she sees it plummet below her, followed shortly by the little demon. She frowns, wondering why she's suspended in mid air. She looks up. Spike is leaning over the whole in the floor, his hand gripping to her jumper. She hears the fabric start to tear and she twists to reach her hand up, grabbing his just in time for the fabric to rip completely. He pulls her up through the whole and onto his lap, hugging her possessively.

"Erm Spike?" she says awkwardly. "Could you erm... let me go?"

Spike coughs to clear his throat.

"Sorry slayer," he says gruffly.

They both stand and anxiously walk to the edge of the crater in his living room, looking down at the identical craters that create a dark, seemingly endless pit through the below floors.

"You think they're dead?" Buffy asks.

"Unlikely. We need to get the bloody hell outta here."

_**TBC...**_


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: ** Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas. Enjoy the chapter, I decided to add a little twist, which I'm hoping you guys will enjoy.

**Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Life after Death**

**By Secret Slayer**

**Chapter Five**

**Baggage**

They leave the flat with a poorly and barely packed suitcase, with enough clothes and essentials to last a few days at most. Spike flings the worn leather case into the back of his red Viper, along with a cardboard box filled with some books he thinks might come in handy. Most are Giles' or Willow's old volumes that he'd kept after they'd ... gone. Some he had accumulated himself in his centuries of living. On top of the box, the broken picture frame sat.

"Nice car," Buffy admired, looking over the sports car.

Spike smirks, "Prezzie from the Tall-and-Broody one."

Buffy raises an eyebrow at him, "Angel gave you this?"

Spike's smirk grows bigger and his eyes twinkle mischievously, "Eventually."

"I'm not even going to ask," Buffy replies with a roll of the eyes.

Spike slides into the driver's side and Buffy gets into the passenger's seat, securely fastening her seatbelt. Spike, of course, doesn't bother and puts the car in gear and roars out of the underground car park.

The journey is silent, Buffy not bothering to ask where he's driving to, a feeling of trust developing for the vampire. However, after only half an hour into the journey and barely on the outskirts of London, she frowns when he pulls down a street and gently parks in front of a little bungalow.

"Spike, I'm not sure this is the greatest getaway destination," she says, looking out of his window at the vulnerable little building, nestled between two larger detached houses.

The houses either side are derelict with boarded windows and slanting walls. The front gardens are mostly just dead, yellow grass with the occasional sprouting weed. The small bungalow on the other hand, is surreally immaculate. It has flawless white walls with a little red door and a wisteria climbing around the front window. The front garden is a bed of lush green with wild flowers of every colour blooming on the edges, despite the wintery temperatures.

_Must be magic, _Buffy wonders.

"We're not stopping," Spike replies absently, opening his door.

Buffy eyes him suspiciously, watching him walk towards the little building. He knocks and waits patiently, until the small door opens just a fraction – just enough for whoever is inside to see the visitor. It only takes a beat for the occupant to register Spike and open the door fully. Buffy leans forward in her seat, trying to catch a peek, but the owner quickly shuffles into darkness. Spike looks around nervously. Finally, Buffy sees a small, frail old woman come to the door with a little girl at her feet. The old woman has luminous green eyes that despite her otherwise human appearance show that she is demon. The little girl however, looks completely human, with bouncy brown curls barely tamed by a pink bow loosely tied at the nape of her neck.

Spike says something, but Buffy can't hear from her place in the car. Her eyes widen when the vampire takes the hand of the little girl and leads her towards the car. The old demon lady peeks out of her home, seemingly checking the coast is clear, before disappearing back inside, closing the door so loudly, Buffy can hear it through the closed car doors.

Spike marches towards the car, the little girl following obediently at his side. He pulls the back door open, helping her in and buckling her seat belt for her. Buffy watches in the rear-view mirror, surprised at the vampire's ease and gentleness with the little girl.

_I guess Spike is good with kids_, Buffy thinks. _Could this world get any weirder?_

The back door closes and the girl looks at the rear-view mirror with big, blue eyes, locking eyes with the slayer. Buffy averts her gaze, startled by the intensity from such a small child. Spike silently slides back beside Buffy, turns the keys and starts off again.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Buffy eventually asks.

"Right," Spike says, "Buffy meet Marnie. Marnie meet Buffy."

Buffy twists in her seat, surprised when the girl holds out her hand.

"Pleased to meet you Buffy," she says with a cute British accent that makes Buffy melt from the inside out.

Buffy reaches out her hand and shakes Marnie's much smaller hand, "Hi."

Marnie retracts her hand, tilting her head curiously at Buffy.

"You're pretty," the girl smiles. "Uncle Spike, is she your girlfriend?"

Spike rolls his eyes and with Buffy they simultaneously say, "No."

"So Spike," Buffy says in a hushed tone, whilst Marnie distracts herself with looking out of the car window. "Wanna explain who the little girl is?"

Spike sighs, "She's our neice."

"Our?"

"Dawn's great granddaughter, or great great granddaughter. I lose track," he says, eyes focused on the road ahead.

Buffy's eyes widen and she glances back at the girl, now able to see the similarities with her sister, although after a couple of generations, there are some different, but pretty characteristics to this little girl too. Her brown hair is lighter than Dawn's and her eyes are a darker blue, almost a stormy grey.

"How old is she? Why isn't she with her mom and dad?" Buffy asks, keeping her voice low.

"They disappeared. I tried to find them, but no luck. I've been caring for her since she was a baby. Except when I stay in London, she stays with a friend. Its bad news if the wrong kind of demon finds a baby," Spike briefly looks at Buffy from the corner of his eye to judge her reaction, she just stares back with wide, but accepting eyes. "She's five."

"You're so different," Buffy says in small voice, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap.

If Spike hears her comment, he ignores it, continuing to drive. They're well and truly out of London now, driving down a long, deserted stretch of road with only the rolling countryside surrounding them. The sun is setting and the clouds stretch above in an array of mesmerizing pinks and oranges.

"Where are we going?" Marnie asks.

"On holiday Bit," Spike replies.

Marnie grins a big, beaming smile and bounces on her seat excitedly. "A holiday?!"

"Somewhere far away," Spike mumbles to himself.

"Spike, where exactly are we going?" Buffy asks.

"Scotland."

An hour passes and he finally stops at an abandoned petrol station. The Viper purrs into the vacant area.

"I need the toilet," Marnie announces.

"Come on Marnie, I'll take you," Buffy says gently.

Marnie grins again, enthusiastically grabbing the slayer's hand. "I like your new girlfriend Uncle Spike."

Buffy and Spike exchange an awkward glance, before the vampire heads towards the empty shop and Buffy quickly leads the little girl to where the toilet should be.

The light in the shop flickers hesitantly, illuminating it one second and then plunging it into darkness the next. Luckily, Spike's vampire vision stops it from being a problem. He kicks the front door open, inhaling deeply to check for any unwelcome inhabitants. He doesn't smell anything other than a body somewhere that's been dead a while and decaying food. First, he grabs a rusty shopping basket from the floor, throwing as many canned foods and drinks into it as possible. When it's mounded high, he heads to the till. Bizarrely, after all this time, it's still locked shut. Wasting no time, he uses his free hand and pushes it off the counter. It hits the floor with a loud crash and spills open. There's no fortune inside, but enough that should keep them going in an emergency. He puts the basket on the counter and bends down, scooping the change and notes into his duster pockets. With a pleased smirk, he grabs the basket and saunters out of the shop.

Buffy raises an eyebrow at him. "Been busy?"

"Retail therapy luv," Spike winks.

"Is there chocolate?!" Marnie asks, trying to peep into the basket.

Spike tucks it under his arm to hide it from her view, and then turns his back, seemingly rummaging through the basket to purposefully create a dramatic effect. The little girl rocks impatiently on her heels and Buffy smiles amusingly at the vampire's teasing. He turns again with a knowing look on his face and after a beat too long, opens his hand to reveal a single wrapped block of chocolate in his palm. He hands it to the little girl, who hugs it to her chest protectively.

"Yummy," she says, "Thank you."

"Don't suppose there's any yummy goodness in there for me?" Buffy asks, her stomach growling on cue.

Without even going back into the basket, he reaches into his duster pocket and pulls out a small tub of melted ice-cream. He hands it to the slayer.

"Cookie-dough!" she squeals unashamedly.

She turns back to the car then pauses, seemingly forgetting something, when she turns back, Spike is already holding a plastic spoon for her, which she takes sheepishly and then returns to the car. Spike chuckles, remembering that it was Buffy's favourite ice-cream flavour.

"_I want ice-cream," Buffy whines, flopping down in front of the television._

_Spike rolls his eyes, "How bloody old are you? Five?"_

_Buffy pokes her tongue out at him and swings her legs over his lap, leaning her head back on the arm of the sofa. Spike absently flicks through channels on the TV, but Buffy's pout distracts him too much, so he switches it off and stands so fast, she topples off the side and onto the floor._

"_That was uncalled for," she grumbles._

"_Get your coat," he replies grudgingly. _

_Buffy frowns, "Are you kicking me out?"_

_Spike clenches his jaw, "No, you daft bint. We're going for ice-cream."_

_In the opposite corner of the living room, Xander sits on an armchair with Dawn on his lap. He's reading a comic book whilst she idly plays with his hair. However, at the scene of the vampire and slayer before them, they chuckle._

"_Oh man," Xander says, trying to stifle his laughing, "You're so whipped."_

"_Sod off Harris," Spike grumbles as Buffy reappears in a navy coat, the hood lined with faux fur. _

"_Hey what's with all the standing still, there's ice-cream to be buying!" Buffy announces. "Xand, Dawn, you guys coming with?"_

"_Sounds fun," Dawn agrees._

_She slides off of Xander's lap and stands, revealing her small baby bump. She stretches and yawns._

"_I have a craving for cookie-dough," she says._

"_Me too," Buffy agrees._

_Xander looks at her with his good eye, "Not pregnant too are ya, Buffster?"_

_Buffy laughs and nudges Spike, "Not unless someone has something to tell me."_

"_Still undead," he says, putting his hands up in mock surrender._

"Hello, Earth to Spike."

Buffy waves her hand in front of the vampire's face and he blinks, clearing his thoughts. He looks at Buffy oddly for a moment and then with wide eyes, looks over the slayer's shoulder.

"Where's Marnie?"

"She's in the car hugging her chocolate," Buffy says slowly, then shrugs, "I tried to explain that it would melt and be all icky, but apparently that's the way she likes it. So I hope you've got some wet wipes in that basket of goodies."

"Always got some in the car," Spike says absently, finally catching a glimpse of the little girl in the back of his car. There's just a faint reflection of her in the passenger window. He sighs with relief.

"Spike, not that I'm big with the caring of vampire wellbeing... but are you okay?"

Spike rolls his eyes. "I'm fine slayer. Tired is all."

"Want me to drive?" she asks genuinely.

"Pfft, an' end up wrapped round a tree?" he scoffs. She pouts. "No ta luv."

They both head back to the sports car and Buffy smiles affectionately at the little brunette on the backseat, who's drifted off to sleep, her brown ringlets in disarray.

"She's a cute kid," Buffy says, clicking her seatbelt into place.

"The bloody best," Spike replies proudly.

They share a genuine smile, before the car starts up and Spike drives into the night.

It's a good hour before Spike pulls into an abandoned motel. There's no lights and if he hadn't known it was there, it would have been impossible to see in the engulfing darkness of night. They drive down a bumpy track and park haphazardly outside the main entrance.

"This looks cosy," Buffy remarks sarcastically.

Spike gives her a look. "I'll grab the bags, you bring Marnie in."

Buffy nods and gently opens the back door of the car. She leans over the small girl, holding her breath when she moves a little in her sleep, but sighs with relief when she stills again. Carefully, Buffy cradles the little girl and pulls her out of the car, kicking the door shut with her foot. Instinctively, Marnie wraps her arms around Buffy's neck.

Spike is waiting patiently at the entrance, the grubby box of books under one arm and the suitcase in his other hand. Buffy hesitantly approaches.

"Spike, I don't like this," she admits, shifting Marnie in her arms to get a better view. "My slayer senses are tingling."

Spike's nostrils flare, inhaling the surrounding scents. He shrugs, nudging the door open with his shoulder.

"Nothing here luv," he says. "Used to be owned by vamps, but they're long gone. Probably what you're picking up on, I'd wager."

"Hope you're right. Not sure how good my fighting style is with a five year old attached to my front," she says with a smile.

Spike chuckles.

It's hard for Buffy to see inside because the electricity has clearly died a long time ago. The interior of the building is shabby, but not as derelict as it had looked outside. The moon is big and full and casts just enough light through the cracked glass windows that she can make out Spike's silhouette. She follows him, but frowns at all the doors they seem to pass, wondering why they can't just use one of those.

"Erm Spike, what's wrong with these rooms? I mean, as fun as this whole walking in the dark thing is, my arms are gettin' kinda achy."

"I'm trying to find a room that doesn't smell like someone has died in it," he replies glumly, then suddenly pauses. "Like this one."

He pushes the door open and Buffy looks inside, having to blink a few times to let her eyes adjust. Spike dumps the box of books and suitcase on the bed, then fumbles in the bedside draw, successfully finding two half-melted candles. He puts them on the small cabinet and pulls out his box of matches. Using the wall to light his match, he puts it to the candle and the dingy little room glows softly in the candle light.

There's a small sofa along the wall, which Buffy carefully places Marnie on. Spike shrugs off his duster and covers the little girl. She wriggles a little underneath it, getting comfortable, and then is lost to her dreams once again. Buffy sighs heavily and sits on the edge of the bed. Spike sits beside, surprised when Buffy suddenly stands, looking around frantically.

"There's only one bed," she accuses.

"Don't flatter yourself pet," Spike says, his eyes narrowing at her. "I was plannin' on sleeping on the floor."

Buffy blushes in the dim light and averts her eyes, "Oh."

A breeze whistles through the cracked window, reminding Buffy just how cold it is. She shivers and heads to the suitcase, flipping it open and feeling bitterly disappointed at the lack of warm clothing inside. She looks at the thin, moth eaten sheet on the bed and her shoulders sag.

"You should get some sleep luv," Spike says, trying to settle down on the floor.

Buffy nods, looking at the bed and grimacing. "Easier said than done."

She keeps her boots on for added warmth and peels the cover back. The mattress beneath is grubby and she quickly pulls it back, deciding to sleep on top. Pushing the suitcase and box to the foot of the bed, she crawls on top of it, curling up into a foetal position. She shivers so hard the mattress squeaks beneath her.

"I could warm you up," Spike says from the floor, no edge of smuttiness to his voice.

Buffy frowns. "No thank you."

"Suit yourself."

She rolls onto her back, wrapping her arms across her chest. She looks out of the window behind her head and sees the first flurry of snow begin to settle on the ground outside. Condensation floats before her as she exhales. She shivers again.

Spike stands from the floor.

"Budge up," he orders.

Buffy's eyes widen. "What? No."

"I want some sleep and I can't bloody do that with your teeth chatterin' all night."

Buffy glowers at him and reluctantly shifts a little. He lies down on the edge of the bed and at first Buffy flinches, his skin as cold as death – which makes sense, being dead and all.

"Spike, you're not helping. If you're trying to-"

He wraps his arm around her middle, pulling her a little closer. She tenses, but then sighs, the weight of his arm starting to warm her middle. Instinctively, she moves a little closer and rests against his chest, the fabric of his shirt warming her.

"Better?"

"Much."

He rolls over only slightly, just so that his body leans on top of her a little, to create a barrier from the cold draft.

"We need to start researching tomorrow," Buffy whispers, careful not to wake Marnie. "I miss my friends and Dawn. I can't imagine how hard this must be for her."

"She's tough," Spike comforts.

"It's going to be weird," Buffy says.

"What's that?"

"Going back. Knowing what I know. Especially about you. I might actually start being nice to you," she says with a frown as though her very words are changing everything she has ever believed in.

Spike chuckles, "I think that's the ice-cream talking luv."

She laughs and smiles up at him, "I'm not kidding Spike. You turn out to be a kinda good guy. Maybe I should give you more credit."

"Well, speaking from experience, that would be a bloody refreshing change," his smirk fades when a more serious thought comes to the fore of his mind.

"What's the matter?" she asks softly, surprised by her own tenderness.

She looks at him, his blue eyes glistening in the low candlelight; his face angled and carefully shaded in the dim glow, as though done perfectly to create a dramatic effect. Her hands are pressed against his hard chest, which raises methodically and unnecessarily – a human habit that has never died. His arm is muscular and holding her possessively, even though she can tell he's trying to restrain himself at the same time. Buffy's not sure if it's the memories that keep sneaking into her brain or the fact that she's been able to see a different side to him, but suddenly in that moment, she decides she likes Spike. Platonically, of course – well, maybe with a slight hint of attraction.

_Look at those lips. No- Bad future Buffy. Stop looking at his lips._

"Nothing pet," he lies, not wanting to admit he's scared that she'll change their future together once she returns.

"You're being Mr Avoid-y again," she scolds.

A stronger breeze howls through the broken window and Buffy leans into Spike, the top of her head resting under his chin. He holds her tighter until her shiver passes.

"Why couldn't we have lived in Barbados or something?" she grumbles.

Buffy looks up at Spike, suddenly conscious of how close they are. She tries to shuffle back a tiny bit, but is instantly hit by the cold.

"I can go back to the floor if that makes you more comfortable," Spike says, noticing her movement.

"No," she says quickly and then blushes, "I'll be a frozen Buffy by morning if you do that. It's just for one night right?"

Spike nods, "Yeah, we'll be nice and warm by tomorrow. Got a nice place by the lake. We spent a few Christmases there with the gang."

"Sounds nice," Buffy muses.

"It was."

"This is nice," Buffy whispers. "Except for the time travel and being stuck in a rotten motel, probably on some sort of demon hit list by now."

Spike raises his eyebrows at the slayer.

"I can't believe I just said that," she quickly says.

"Probably just memories," the vampire says sadly. "Sure you'll go back to wanting me dead in a few minutes."

Buffy frowns at his words. "Actually, I think I kinda meant it. We've officially entered Bizzaro World."

A small spark alights in Spike's chest and his eyes lock on Buffy. Her eyes are dark and inviting in the candlelight, her soft brown hair messily pulled up into a bun. He's missed her so much. Having her back should have been the greatest blessing of his entire unlife, but instead its just painful torture. Having the woman he loves so dearly so close, but knowing she doesn't feel the same - hasn't experienced enough life yet to stop thinking so black and white and understand shades of grey. Of course, she's not a million years away from that. Perhaps he should stop distancing himself from her and instead, prove what a good life they could have.

He thinks he's dreaming when her lips gently meet his.

_**TBC...**_

**AN:** Mr Gordo the cat will make a return... he hasn't been forgotten. Hope you liked this chapter, I had fun writing it. Think I'll do some more action in the next chapter...


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